Angels Don't Do the Scootch
by Wynter WolfSong
Summary: Darien and Paige are insane...and the roommates of two hunters an occasional angel. Can they keep out of trouble without paying the rent?
1. A prologue of sorts

PROLOGUE - AND SO IT BEGINS.

"Do you think angels do the scootch?"

I blinked, making sure I heard right. Slowly I looked up from _New Moan _and stared at Darien. She started to ask me again, but my look made her pause.

"Excuse me? Did you really just ask that?"

Her had scratched Kiwi's belly feverishly. "Well, I was just wondering. Castiel reminds me so much of a puppy, so…"

I glanced at her kitty mug. "No more fruit punch for you. Ever."

Ignoring me, she continued to rant about how the angels don't understand her as I sunk lower and lower into my comfy chair.


	2. The things I write at three AM

***{ Note: I know this isn't edited well, or maybe not even written well, but I wrote this out of pure fun and to amuse my best friend. :D Please enjoy, regardless. 3 }***

Although tea with Castiel had calmed me, I doubt it would prepare for what was coming. I walked out of the closet, leaving Castiel to stare off into space after I had brought up a childhood memory between him and Raphael, giving me time to go find Darien and see what she fucked up this time. Briefly I glanced at the colorful calendar Castiel and Darien had made during their drunk moments, which had most dates wrong and out of order (seriously…how did they think the 30th came before the 25th?).

I knew she was in the dining room because pieces of Castiel's clothing led there. Why he bothered to come around so often during this chaos, I'll never know. But Darien sat at the dining table, muttering quietly.

"No one understands me," she seethed while cutting snowflakes into Castiel's Bullet For My Valentine band shirt. She didn't realize that she had bought him the shirt yesterday at Hot Topic, but I wouldn't mention anything.

"What are you doing?" I asked out of habit. Her hands slammed into the clothing, mouth opening, but I interrupted, "I know you're cutting his clothes. You don't clean up well."

"I don't like staying in one place," she sneered. "Anyway, why do you ask if you know?"

"I guess my curiosity knows no bounds."

"Or you're just a dumbass."

"Honestly, I'm surprised I haven't caught it from you yet."

The more we talked, the more scraps of jeans fluttered to the ground. Kiwi the Chihuahua stared at them absently. "Where's that crazy piece of psycho?"

She meant Castiel. "Reminiscing. Did you remember to feed Kiwi?"

"That's why I'm letting the clothes fall to her." Darien mumbled irritably. "Besides, the dead will feed her if she bothers them enough, so…"

I glared. Kiwi had yet to commune with the dead today (as she usually does) so she probably hadn't eaten. "We have dog food for a reason."

"I ate it one time, okay?? Stop trying to get me to eat it when I'm drunk!!"

"You do that regardless of my help or alcohol."

The scissors clattered across the wooden floor, creating new scratches. "Whatever. I'm gonna go talk to Lucy now."

I sat in the chair across from her. "Hey, wait. You aren't allowed down there anymore, and if God finds out about your "talks" with Lucifer, I'll have to have more than one weekly meeting with him."

"It's all about you, isn't it?!" Darien stormed off to her room, slamming the door. I waited until she struggled with the lock, then headed over and kicked it down. It had already been broken plenty of times, mostly because of Dean's bitch fits.

"No, of course it's about me. The whole reason I go to heaven and even near hell is because of your rank ass."

Her room was…everything. A new grave stone laid in front of me, still smelling like dirt. Clothes and random objects lay everywhere, disguising her furniture. Darien liked stealing things.

I glanced up and saw the original Mona Lisa hanging from one corner on a surprisingly bare yet not-clean wall. "Why do you have Mona Lisa in here?"

"The bitch looked at me funny."

The voice came from the closet, one door opened and overflowing with blankets. Whenever she picked out her outfit she slept in them, forgetting where her bed is. Actually, she forgot where it was about seven months ago.

I leaned against the well-splintered door frame, remembering my purpose for ditching Castiel. "Would you like to explain how you got your third strike from being banned from Hell?"

"It's not like they can keep me from there" was her automatic response, something she was used to saying to anyone who mentioned her and Hell in the same sentence.

Sighing, I said, "No, but they can banish your soul from going anywhere. Permanently."

"They'd miss me eventually." finally she emerged from the closet, blow-up Dracula doll falling with her onto the pile of blankets. I had no idea how she even got it, but Dracula had been a part of our lives as much as dinner fights were.

"Even God lost his patience. Why else would we be having these weekly meetings?" I made a mental note to myself about coming up with 33 more reasons why Darien should live, which was required for the meetings. _Because she has nice hair. Because being disorganized is the new style. Because she keeps Lucifer entertained. Because she is creative in clothe-carving._

After a few months, coming up with new lists was easy. Normal. Sometimes I did them out loud, but then Dean would join in sarcastically, thus pissing off Darien, who would somehow bring in the defensive Sam and quiet Castiel. It always happened at dinner, so I didn't see a point of making it happen more than that.

"Maybe because you two like discussing how awesome I am."

"And maybe your head is shoved so far up your ass -" Dean's voice began.

"Up yours, Short Bus." Darien didn't even look up as Dean climbed through her window, not able to finish his sentence because he had to somehow balance a gun while helping Sam through. Both tumbled onto three pillows that we had placed long ago, when Darien's window became the safest escape and entrance, since nothing dared to go near it.

Dean finally answered after standing up. "You're the short one."

"I'm a girl. What's your excuse, she-man?"

"Say something witty, Sam," I encouraged.

He blinked. "The sound of popcorn is joyous?"

"Omigod, I want some popcorn!" Darien chimed in, leaping past me and running towards the kitchen.

"Make me some!!" Dean screamed back, but of course she didn't hear.

"Don't you have a sandwich laying around?" I asked.

He pouted. "Darien ate the rest."

I nodded. He shouldn't leave his food out. I would rather have Kiwi get it, but then again she knows better than to go near food that had been sitting out for days. Then I asked Sam, "Did you get it?"

Sam stood, reaching inside his jacket. "I had to sell my lucky keychain and buy a Medusa one from Canada to trade with Gabriel, but yeah, I finally got it."

Proudly, he held up the special edition of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Yes, it was almost Thanksgiving. No, we didn't give a fuck.

"About time!" I snatched it from him and ran to my room and the closet again, grabbing Castiel from his trance. "They got it, Cass!"

He stared at me innocently. "But I thought Dean said the porn was out of stock."

I dragged him into the living room. "No. Well, it might still be. But that's not important right now. We don't need porn, we have HOW THE GRINCH STOLE MOTHER-FUCKING CHRISTMAS!!"

After throwing his lazy ass onto the couch I heard Darien say, "The microwave is making pretty lights…" and quickly rushed over to turn off said microwave. She forgot to put the popcorn in, but put a can of corn instead.

"BITCH DIDN'T MAKE MY POPCORN!!" screeching, she stole the can back from the microwave and tossed it at Kiwi's dusty food bowl.

As on routine, I pulled the mini-microwave from under the sink and plugged it in after putting some popcorn inside. Just as Sam started opening the can to put in Kiwi's bowl, Kiwi began her rituals. There was nothing more frightening than a Chihuahua screaming, racing around, and twitching while summoning the dead. Even Lucifer agreed this was true after meeting Kiwi.

Grumbling, Dean bent down and strapped Kiwi's collar back on, which had a charm to keep ghosts from coming. But Kiwi always kicked it off right before her rituals, or Darien got bored and took it off herself to make things exciting. Once calmed, the Chihuahua ran over to her bowl and sucked up the mostly-warm corn like the hooker she is.

"Dammit Sam, I was saving that corn!" Dean growled at his little brother. Darien grabbed her popcorn bag and paused to watch the brothers.

Sam sounded incredulous. "For what?"

"It's the last food we have besides popcorn!"

I blinked. "You're kidding, right?"

But Sam was already checking the snack cabinet. I held my breath when he grabbed a cereal box, until he shook it and pulled out a sock. The emergency cabinet underneath was equally empty.

"We're screwed." Darien munched away at what I remembered was the last bag of popcorn.

"Dammit, now we have to go grocery shopping!" I glanced at Castiel, who was staring intently at the previews, baby-eyes wide. "Cass, pause the movie. We have to go buy food."

He pointed at the screen. "But…shouldn't we stop him from stealing this 'Christmas'? The Grinch sounds threatening. Maybe we need to go take care of him first."

"Food is more important!" Darien declared, scooping up Kiwi and heading towards the front door.

I grabbed Kiwi's pink knit sweater and sighed as everyone started arguing about who was more suited to drive.


End file.
